The Appointment
by more-than-words
Summary: "Blake. I'm going to level with you, okay? Between one crisis and another, I've hardly seen my wife in three weeks. That's a long time. And I really need to see my wife. You understand?" Henry's got plans. Blake's in hell. Nadine is hard to read. And Elizabeth is going... where?
1. Chapter 1

Hello! This fic is the result of a smut prompt from lovely Adi - many thanks are due to her for the idea and for helping make sense of all my mad ramblings; I hope this is vaguely what you were hoping for! Anyway, this got a bit longer than intended so I've split it into chapters; the M rating applies mainly for chapter 3. Please let me know what you think!

P.S. Please don't take this fic too seriously. Please. Haha.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 _Tuesday, 15:40_

Without even looking away from the email on his screen, Blake reached over and distractedly picked up the ringing telephone. "Good afternoon, State Department."

"Blake? It's Henry McCord."

At the sound of the Secretary's husband, Blake snapped to attention, sitting up straighter in his seat and reaching one hand up to straighten his tie as though the man could see him from the other end of the phone line. "Hello, Dr McCord. What can I do for you?"

The reply when it came sounded slightly tight. "Can you tell me when my wife is available?"

He didn't even need to look at the schedule to know where the Secretary was, nor to know that she didn't have more than ten minutes free before she was due to leave for the day at past nine pm. "I'm afraid she's on a call right now, but in between engagements I can ask her to phone –"

"No." Henry cut him off. "I mean can you tell me when I can see her?"

Blake thought the Secretary's husband sounded… off, not quite his usual collected, put-together self. He sounded… anxious? A beat of concern thrummed through him. "Dr McCord, is everything okay? Has something happened?"

"Everything's fine." The reply was swift enough to be mostly reassuring. "I just… need you to schedule me some time with Elizabeth. Book me an appointment."

Oh God. For an awful moment, Blake had the thought that the Secretary and her husband might be fighting, and Henry was looking to talk to her on the clock. Except it didn't really sound like that was the case. "Book you an appointment?" he clarified.

"Yes."

"With your wife."

"Yes."

Maybe it was something to do with an ongoing security issue that Henry was looking into as part of his work. That might make sense. It might be something that he wasn't at liberty to disclose over the phone. As he brought up the Secretary's calendar on his computer, Blake asked, "I'm sorry, is this to do with a professional matter?"

"No."

Oh. "I'm afraid I don't –"

Henry cut him off. "Blake. I'm going to level with you, okay? Between one crisis and another, I've hardly seen my wife in three weeks. That's a long time. And I _really_ need to see my wife. You understand?"

Blake froze, feeling a hot, mortified blush rushing up his neck as realisation started to dawn. He thought he might get what Henry was hinting at. Doing his best to keep his face impassive even as he could feel his eyes widening uncontrollably, he said, "Oh."

He'd been aiming for neutral. He came in nowhere near.

Henry said, "Yes."

"You –"

"Want to have sex with my wife. So an evening appointment might be good."

Well, yes, he supposed an evening would make sense. Blake nodded in agreement before he caught himself and stopped abruptly. _Oh God._ He mustered his professionalism and very deliberately didn't think about all the times his mother had told him that his job didn't pay anywhere near enough for what he was expected to do. "Right. Of course. In that case, let me check the calendar."

Pimp. He was a pimp.

He was whoring out his boss.

To her husband, so at least it could be worse. And he was sure she would appreciate the chance to… No. Stop that thought there. He was just scheduling an appointment like any other. That's all it was. An appointment. He turned his attention back to the calendar, aware that his palms had developed a cold sweat and the phone felt clammy in his hand. "I could schedule you in for Thursday evening?" he suggested to Henry. "There's a phone call with our ambassador to Russia at nine that she can't miss, but I can move everything else around and then she's clear the rest of the night."

He thought he sounded professional, cool. Calm. Not like a pimp. Just.

"That would be great."

"I'll arrange for her car to bring her home for six thirty." No way was that… meeting… going to take place in the State Department. That was absolutely something he did not need to be responsible for.

The anticipated relief in Henry McCord's voice was palpable. "Thank you."

After he had rung off, Blake placed the phone slowly back in its cradle. He stared straight ahead. He took a moment to gather himself.

Then he wondered: how the hell was he supposed to record that appointment in the Secretary's calendar?

* * *

 _Thursday, 07:35_

"So the bill signing at the White House has moved to two thirty and then she has half an hour back here with staff before the meeting with the Italian delegation," Nadine said, casting her eye down the Secretary of State's schedule for the day, a steaming cup of coffee on the desk in front of her.

Blake nodded, diligently making a note on his own copy of the schedule so he had a record of the change.

Nadine went on, "And then she's going…" She stopped and peered at the sheet of paper from behind her glasses before looking pointedly up at Blake over the rims of the frames.

Oh yeah. He had somehow managed to almost – _almost_ – forget about the Secretary's penultimate appointment for the day.

"Golfing?"

"Yes."

"Golfing."

He could almost _hear_ the air quotes as Nadine spoke. There was no choice but to roll with it. Blake put on his best professional face and said to the Chief of Staff, "Yes."

"This was added at the Secretary's request?" Nadine had turned her gaze back to her copy of the schedule but one eyebrow was raised incredulously high to tell Blake exactly what she thought of the matter. No doubt she was also just noticing the location of the appointment and wondering exactly when it was that Elizabeth McCord got an eighteen hole fairway installed in her DC townhouse.

He swallowed. "Actually, it was at the request of Dr McCord."

Just the slightest twitch of the lip was Nadine's only reaction. A woman of the world, no doubt she saw right through Blake's poor attempt to write something vaguely legitimate on the official schedule to cover up a blatant sexual assignation. "I see. And does the Secretary know that this… excursion… has been added to the schedule?"

"Ah. Not yet." For some reason he had yet to find time to tell his boss. It kept conveniently slipping his mind every time he had spoken to her over the past couple of days. Weird how that happened.

There was a look on Nadine's face that might have been disapproval or amusement; it was always so hard to tell with the Secretary's poker-faced Chief of Staff. Her lip twitched again as she said, "And she _will_ still be available for the phone call with the ambassador at nine?"

"Absolutely." He wondered exactly how he was going to guarantee her presence for the call if _golfing_ took longer than anticipated. He decided to worry about that if it came to it.

Nadine gave him a look that told him she wasn't entirely convinced. She snorted as she handed him a folder, dismissing him from her office as she picked up her coffee mug and said, with too much sincerity for comfort, "Godspeed, Blake. Godspeed."

* * *

 _Thursday, 18:10_

Now or never.

He literally couldn't put it off any longer.

The Secretary's car was already waiting for her downstairs and if she wasn't in it within the next three minutes, she would be late for her six thirty appointment. Only trouble was, he still hadn't told her exactly what that appointment was for.

He wondered if he might not be able to get her out of the door and into the car without telling her the complete story. Could he do that?

Even pimps weren't that devious. Oh God.

"Blake?"

Blake snapped out of his increasingly desperate internal monologue to find himself in the Secretary's office, and she was looking at him from behind her desk with an expectant question on her face. "Ma'am, it's time for you to leave for your six thirty," he said, hoping he sounded as smooth and casual as he was aiming for.

"Right." Elizabeth McCord pushed away the briefing book she had been reading and stood up from her desk, looking distractedly at her phone as she pulled on her jacket. "This is the meeting with the guys about the… the wheat project, is it?"

Good, a question he could deal with, even if it would only lead to more difficult questions. "Actually, that meeting has been rearranged for a week on Tuesday."

"Oh. Okay." Elizabeth paused and looked up at him. "So where am I going now? I haven't seen any briefing for a replacement meeting. Have I?" She looked down at her desk and started digging through the stack of folders that lay there, hunting through the pile with a look of mild worry on her face at the thought she might have missed a briefing for a meeting scheduled for fifteen minutes' time.

Blake stepped forward to get her attention. "It's actually not a meeting. It's more of a… personal appointment."

Elizabeth looked up from her folders and frowned as she searched her memory but came up blank. "Did I make a personal appointment?"

"No, Ma'am." Here we go.

Confusion had taken up residence on her face but she didn't look suspicious – yet. The frown on her forehead deepened. "So…"

Blake summoned his courage and took a breath, hoping that to deliver the answer with confidence would satisfy her curiosity and prevent any further questions. "Dr McCord called and asked me to put it on your agenda."

No. That was no good. He had been going for bright and breezy but he'd taken it too far and it came out sounding like the bluster it was. Crap.

Of course Elizabeth noticed. She stepped around her desk, an intrigued smile playing at her lips that may have looked relatively innocent but, Blake knew, meant that she was circling for a kill she suspected to be coming her way. Her voice when she spoke was soft and light, the tone she used sometimes to get dictators quaking at her feet. "Henry asked you to put… what, exactly, on my agenda?"

Oh God, she was standing so close to him she'd be able to see every movement of every muscle in his face. There was no way in hell she'd buy a lie and, if he didn't want to actually end up going to hell, he couldn't even attempt to lie to her in the face of a direct question. "Golfing," he answered.

Not – technically – a lie.

"Golfing?"

All she needed was that one word to break him and damn, he could see that she must have been an absolutely superb interrogator during her time at the CIA. Blake felt himself crumbling under the weight of Elizabeth's stare. "Yes. Well." He looked down at the folder he was carrying to avoid her gaze. "That's what we're calling it."

Elizabeth shifted her stance. "I see. Is it not golfing?"

An easy question and a difficult one. He gulped. "Ah, no."

"So what should we actually be calling it? Blake?" Elizabeth dipped her head to better see his face and her tone was laced with pointed curiosity as she said, "Why are you blushing?"

Resign. He was just going to resign and move to Outer Mongolia and live on a mountainside with some goats. That was what he was going to have to do. "I would just like to state for the record, Ma'am, that I am merely the messenger in this situation. I was only acting on orders from –"

Elizabeth held up her hand to cut him off. "Noted," she said. "Blake, what is this appointment?"

If in doubt, go with the truth. Or something approximating the truth. He felt the heat of the blush intensifying. His face felt scorched. His throat felt dry. He coughed. He went for it, the words coming out in a garbled rush. "Henry misses you, Ma'am. He says he's hardly seen you for three weeks and so the appointment tonight is intended to, ah, _rectify_ the issue."

Next to him, Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest as she looked up at him, a slight look of puzzlement clouding her features. "Rectify the..?" The cloud was replaced by slightly wide-eyed clarity. "Oh."

"Yes."

Blake chanced a look at her face to find her looking like she didn't know quite what to do with the information that her husband had called her assistant to ask him to schedule in an early evening playdate.

Elizabeth spoke in fragmented sentences as she processed the information. "He called you to..? And you put this on my..?" She settled on a question she liked. "You put this on my calendar?"

"Actually, I put golfing on your calendar."

No, stop, don't quip now. This was not a quipping situation.

Blake sobered and instead went for the heartfelt approach, mixed with professional practicality – always a winning combination to get Elizabeth McCord onside, or at least distract her long enough to end the conversation and be far away by the time she circled back around to wanting to end his life. Blake collected up her briefcase and started to steer his boss in the direction of the door, talking as he went. "And Ma'am, after these past few weeks, you've earned the time off. All I ask is that you remain available for the 9pm call with the US ambassador to Russia. I'll text you at eight forty five to remind you, and I'll call you at five to nine if you don't respond to my text."

She may or may not have heard his plea. She looked thoughtful. "Golfing," she said, like she was still considering his choice of euphemism.

"Yes." Thank God, they were almost at the elevator. Blake pressed the button to call it and prayed that luck was with him.

Elizabeth snorted as she reached out to take her briefcase from him. "That's what we're calling it these days?"

He chanced a smile. "It was the best I could come up with at short notice."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Elizabeth stepped inside and Blake started to imagine the sweet relief that would occur as soon as the doors closed behind his boss.

Then she said, matter of fact and without a hint of a doubt, "I'm very good at golfing."

"I know, Ma'am," he said enthusiastically, relief washing over him that the situation hadn't exploded as he had feared it might and had gone only _slightly_ out of control. He and Henry might be off the hook.

A wicked look took up residence on Elizabeth's face at his response and Blake realised too late that he was not off the hook, not at all – and his boss hadn't actually been making a statement about golfing. No, she meant…

Mortification and horror washed through him at the thought.

Elizabeth grinned her evil grin and she leaned to her left to hold his gaze for as long as possible as the elevator doors slid closed behind her. "Oh, Blake," she smiled. "You have _no_ idea."

Forget the question of _going_ to hell. He was already in it.

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

You guys are awesome. Seriously, thank you so much for the wonderful response to the last chapter; I'm so glad people are enjoying this slightly off-kilter little fic! Here is chapter two, which is a bit shorter but is basically just the slow descent towards the inevitable. Hope you enjoy - any thoughts/comments welcome :D x

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 _Thursday 18:40_

Elizabeth spent the majority of the car ride home thinking about the telling off she would give Henry for what he had done.

Amusement at Blake's obvious discomfort over the situation had faded into genuine annoyance with her husband for his presumptuousness in calling her assistant to ask him to put _sex on her schedule_ like it was a business meeting and the way he had completely bypassed her in making the arrangement without even asking her if she was up for it.

She thought the best way to teach him a lesson would be not to give him what he wanted.

Then she thought that the only problem with that was it would also be denying her what she wanted. Because Henry was right: three weeks was a long time, and she missed him, too. She wasn't about to deny herself just because her husband – her husband, _the ethics professor_ \- needed to learn a lesson in propriety.

But that didn't mean she couldn't make him pay for his transgression.

And it didn't mean that she couldn't have her fun with it.

Yeah, she thought it was going to be a very good evening.

Elizabeth stepped into the foyer of her house and had barely managed to close the front door before she heard footsteps behind her and then felt strong hands gripping her biceps to spin her around and she came face to face with Henry for a split second before one of his hands threaded into her hair and his lips covered hers and he wrapped his other arm tight around her waist to hold her against him.

And, oh, he was really desperate for her.

The impatient enthusiasm in his touch and his kiss swept her up for a minute and she let her briefcase fall to the floor, bringing her hands up to wrap around his neck, the better to hold him steady so she could duel his tongue with her own. Henry hummed in the back of his throat and Elizabeth smiled against his lips, pride filling her up at the thought of her husband wanting her so damn much.

Then she remembered how he had got her there, and the fact that she needed to get her own back before she gave in to what they both wanted, and she broke the kiss, pulling back from his embrace and putting her hands on his chest to keep him where he was when his head dipped to try to follow her.

"I'm sorry, babe," she said, with an impressive facsimile of apology in her voice, "I can't stay long."

She stepped back in preparation for heading up the stairs but Henry caught her waist to still her, as she knew he would.

Elizabeth bit back the smirk that threatened to break free and ruin her game.

Henry frowned. "Why not?"

She was earnest and convincing when she said, "I have an appointment. And I'm already late."

Henry bought it. He sputtered like he couldn't quite decide how to react. "But… wait… what appointment?"

"I have a thing at six thirty, and it's already almost quarter to seven." It was worth the effort it was taking to keep her expression deadpan just to enjoy the confusion that was taking up residence on her husband's face as he thought that she had been double-booked.

Henry shook his head. "But… _I'm_ your six thirty appointment."

Oh, she had been hoping it would take him longer to crack. Then again, she didn't think he fully realised what he had just admitted to her. She smiled slyly at him. "You are?"

His eyes went a little wide.

Elizabeth said, "No, my six thirty appointment is _golfing_."

"Wait, you… _golfing?_ "

She nodded soberly. "Golfing."

"But babe, I –" Henry stopped and realisation dawned. A hint of nerves crept into his expression, along with a side order of guilt. "Ah."

Elizabeth mustered the annoyance she had felt during the car ride home and took a couple of steps back from Henry, nodding in response. "Yeah. When were you gonna tell me that you called Blake and turned him into my booker?"

She watched the debate play out on Henry's face as he opened his mouth, no doubt to try to explain, but then decided better of it and instead spent a few seconds thinking it through before he said, "I should have told you. I'm sorry."

She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him sternly. "Yes, you should have." Some of the indignation she felt was genuine; the rest of it was just for fun.

Henry swallowed heavily. "My only defence is that I miss you. And I love you." His eyes darkened and he tilted slightly towards her. "And I _want_ you. You have no idea how much."

"Oh, I think I do." She held his gaze and let a taunt enter her expression. "You know my official schedule isn't private, right? People see it."

Henry's hands twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for her before he held himself where he was, still unsure of where she was going with this – exactly how much trouble he was actually in.

Elizabeth felt a little thrill of arousal dart through her. She couldn't deny that it was slightly fun, seeing her husband squirm as she admonished him in the foyer of their house. "I mean people might ask me what happened while I was… _golfing_." She let a wicked smile play at the edges of her lips and a glint entered her eyes. "They might ask if I enjoyed it. And I'm going to have to tell them something."

"I can promise you'll enjoy it," Henry said, his voice a low rumble.

"I should hope so, after your little stunt with Blake." She wasn't able to keep her enjoyment out of her voice that time.

Henry noticed, closing the gap between them and sliding his arms around her, squeezing firmly against the small of her back to tilt her into him as he leant over her. "You want to know how much you'll enjoy it? How satisfying it will be?"

Settling into his embrace, Elizabeth rested her hands on Henry's biceps. She held her lips a whisper away from his. "Better than getting a hole in one?"

He kissed her, briefly but firmly, setting heat flaring low in her belly. When he pulled away he said, "Oh, much better than that. Better than completing the course below par."

"I'm very glad to hear that, Dr McCord. This definitely isn't an area where we want to be performing below par."

Henry chuckled and pressed his hips into hers as he kissed her again, his tongue delving into her mouth and setting her nerve endings alight at the same time as betraying how very much he wanted her and why he had resorted to nefarious means to get her home long enough to relieve the ache. He pulled back briefly after a couple of minutes to suck in a breath and say, "That feel below par to you?"

Elizabeth shifted against him, feeling the hardness of him pressing into her abdomen and feeling the answering throb between her legs. "Show me what you've got," she said. "Upstairs. Now."

The look in Henry's eyes darkened as she gave him the order.

So he liked that, did he?

Then he said, "With pleasure." His hands trailed over her back, setting her tingling and making her gasp when he moved around to skate his palms down over her breasts and to her waist, where he held her firmly between his palms, his thumbs moving rhythmically at the base of her ribcage. "But don't forget… this is my appointment. This is my time."

Her heart ticking up a gear, Elizabeth swallowed at the look on Henry's face and the intent in his voice. She mustered her bravado. "So you've got plans, huh?"

"Oh, yes."

She slid her arms up around his neck, using the leverage to pull herself up his body until they were eye to eye. She summoned her resolve. Her lips brushed over his as she spoke, his breath hot against her face. "Good. So do I." She gave him a brief, hard kiss. She repeated, "Upstairs."

* * *

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH for all the continuing enthusiasm for this story, you've all made my day :D I hope you enjoy this final chapter, which is basically just filth with a couple more dodgy golf-related references thrown in for good measure. Because I did actual research for this and I was determined to use at least some of it haha. Let me know what you think! x

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 _Thursday, 18:50_

Elizabeth let Henry walk up the stairs in front of her, deliberately trailing behind him so she could watch the play of muscles in his back as she followed. She smiled at the way his hands were clenching into fists at his sides and she knew he was resisting the urge to spin around and reach for her.

Walking into their bedroom, Elizabeth shut the door behind them with a soft snick and leant back against the wood to watch as Henry turned to face her, a look on his face that was part predatory, part expectation as he waited for her to join him.

She sauntered slowly over to him and then slid her hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders as she stretched her neck up so she could kiss him, the high heeled shoes she still wore putting him only a couple of inches above her. Henry met the kiss eagerly, his hands cupping her hips as his tongue delved into her mouth.

Elizabeth shifted against him to undo the buttons of his shirt as she kissed him, pushing it back off his shoulders and then breaking the kiss so she could tug his t-shirt over his head. Then she stood for a minute with his bare chest brushing against the silk of her blouse, feeling the warmth of him and enjoying the slight thrill of power.

"You know," she said casually, as she dipped her head to nip lightly at her husband's neck to make him shiver, "I'm going to have to go into work and face my staff tomorrow, knowing that at least some of them know exactly what I was doing when I was supposed to be _golfing_. That's gonna be kind of embarrassing."

"I'll make it worth your while," Henry promised, bringing a hand up to cup her face in his palm to draw her face up from his neck. "I told you, I'll make sure you have a good time. And I'll make it up to you for the, uh, inconvenience."

She looked at him with a hint of a challenge in her eyes. "Go on, then."

The hand that Henry still had on her hip slid down her leg until he could bunch up the fabric of her skirt, drawing it up her thighs until he held the material just below her waist. His other hand joined the first as without warning he slid her underwear down her legs, a small smile on his face.

She had barely had time to gasp at the rush of cool air against her skin before Henry had followed the path of her satin underwear down to the floor, dropping to his knees in front of her and curving his palm around each of her ankles in turn so he could lift her enough to pull her panties away and toss them over his shoulder.

So he had meant it when he said that he had plans – plans that she would enjoy. Elizabeth thought about giving in and forgiving him entirely for his sins, but that might mean she might miss out of on some fun. Instead she bit at the inside of her lip and felt warmth surge within her as Henry's hands slid warmly up her legs, pushing her skirt back up around her hips as he went.

He pressed a kiss to the dip where her hip met her leg, and whispered hotly against her skin, "I'm sorry I went behind your back." He kissed her other hipbone, letting his tongue dart out to wet her skin and then blowing softly, making her shiver at the contrast in temperature and sensations. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you." His thumbs stroked against the soft flesh of her inner thighs and his mouth hovered just over the centre of her, close enough she could feel him but not quite touching her.

Elizabeth moaned, tilting her hips towards Henry, needing him to touch her. She could feel herself starting to throb.

He held her still, fingers digging lightly into her thighs. "But I'm not sorry I did it." He looked up at her, a glint in his eyes. "Are you?"

"God, Henry, please." She wrapped the fingers of one hand into the short strands of her husband's hair, tugging to drag his mouth towards her.

The grin on his face told her he knew that he had her, but the intensity in his eyes told her he was serious about making her feel good. Then he slid his hands up slightly so he could touch her and she felt the jolt in her core as his fingers slid against her, and she couldn't help the shout that left her mouth as his lips sealed around her clit in a kiss, his tongue darting out to flick over her and making her gasp.

She was glad of the bulk of him in front of her to help hold her up. Her knees didn't feel as steady as they did a few moments ago.

He ate her out slowly, unapologetically, humming in the back of his throat, the vibrations setting her nerves singing and letting her know that he was enjoying it, too. His tongue pressed inside her for a moment before he replaced it with his fingers, curling slightly at the knuckle so he could touch the spot that never failed to make her body sing.

Elizabeth's eyes slammed shut and the hand that wasn't tangled in Henry's hair flailed at her side as she sought something to grab onto to hold her up. Henry caught her fingers with the hand that wasn't buried knuckle-deep inside her, squeezing firmly before he let go and instead slid his arm around the backs of her thighs, steadying her against him.

She could feel the release building inside her, felt her body chasing after it, desperate for it. She let go of Henry's head to bring her hands up to touch her own breasts through her blouse and bra, the scratch of fabric against her nipples adding to the sensations Henry was creating in her and making her moan loudly.

Henry glanced up briefly to see her face, flushed above him. "That's it, babe," he murmured. "Come for me."

He pressed his fingers more firmly inside her and pushed his tongue hard against her clit and Elizabeth felt the pressure erupt, crying out as waves of pleasure crashed through her, hot white light flashing behind her eyes, her hips jolting involuntarily as Henry kept the pressure up for a few seconds more.

Her knees were buckling and she needed something solid, needed something to rest against.

Blindly, she reached out to push at Henry's head and shoulders as he knelt on the ground in front of her. "I – I need –"

He pulled back enough to give her some space and she stumbled out of the hold he had on her legs, his fingers sliding out of her as she blinked blearily and reached out and found the bed, resting her palms on it, grateful for the surface to rest against and hold her up.

"Damn," she said.

There was movement behind her and then Henry's hand slid over the small of her back. "Okay?" he asked, his tone low and full of lust. He sounded like he was just barely holding on to his control.

Elizabeth nodded jerkily. "Yeah." She sucked in a breath. "Okay, you were right. I enjoyed that."

Henry chuckled. "Good, I'm glad."

She let out a sigh and practically felt herself deflating face-first into the mattress, lowering her torso down onto the soft surface and letting her legs hang over the edge of the bed. After that orgasm, she just needed a minute.

A warm body covered hers as Henry lowered himself down on top of her, his arousal pressing into the small of her back as he pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, arms either side of her to surround her completely.

Elizabeth shifted beneath him. "Give me just a moment, Byron, and I'll help you out."

Her husband sounded confused as he said, "Byron? As in Lord?"

She shook her head as best she could with her face buried in the duvet. "No, Byron Nelson. Golfer. Keep with the programme, professor."

Henry chuckled as he squeezed his arms around her and let her hold a little more of his weight. "Oh, of course, sorry." He kissed the base of her throat. "It's hot that you know that." His hips pressed into her more insistently. "You, uh, almost feeling ready to get onto the back nine?"

Stilling beneath him, Elizabeth felt a momentary flash of shock sweep through her. Did he mean..? Oh God. Really? Did he know what..? Surely he didn't realise… She kept her voice light and inquiring as she queried, "Babe, I appreciate the attempt at another golfing pun, but back nine..?" She swallowed. "Isn't that a euphemism for anal?"

Henry tensed above her and she wished that she could see his face. "It's… no! No. It's… wait, you know what? Yeah." He released his breath on a rush, disturbing her hair. He continued, "I think I might have heard that. It is. Crap. That's not what I…" He paused for a beat. When he spoke again his tone was mildly curious. "I, uh… Do you..?"

"No."

"I mean, is –"

She laughed. "No, idiot." She knew he wasn't really making the suggestion but, like with the sex harness conversation, she thought it was best to cut him off at the pass. She shifted her weight to try to push up from the bed. "And I'm turning over now." She nudged him with her elbow. "Move. Turning."

When she'd extracted enough room to finish rolling over, she lay beneath Henry, looking up at his face and finding from his expression that he was finding their exchange as amusing as she thought he was.

Luckily she found it funny too, a laugh bubbling from her throat at the misunderstanding.

"So that's another one for the funny haha list rather than funny intriguing list?" Henry asked, poking her in the ribs and making her giggle again.

Elizabeth tried to look serious and sober. She was aware that she didn't quite make it. "Shut up. You're on the clock here. I have a phone call at nine pm that I absolutely can't miss and the longer you spend being weird the less time you can spend practicing your golf game, so…"

Henry mimed zipping shut his lips. "Shutting up now."

"Good. Now use your time wisely."

Pushing up from the mattress, Henry stood in front of her, his calves pressing against hers as he looked at her thoughtfully, like he was genuinely considering how best to use his time. It might have been believable if not for the very obvious bulge in his trousers and the fact that he clearly already knew how he wanted to use his time.

Taking a half-step back, Henry undid his trousers and unceremoniously tugged off the rest of his clothes. Elizabeth watched with a smile on her face; the sight of her husband undressing in front of her never got old.

The smile on her face grew when a moment later, Henry climbed back over her on the bed and lowered his head to kiss her tenderly, his hand cupping her face as he poured his love for her into the embrace. "I really have missed you, you know," he mumbled against her lips.

Stroking one hand through his hair, Elizabeth nodded up at him. "I know. I've missed you, too."

He kissed her again. "I'm also wondering how you're still almost entirely clothed here."

The smile grew into a grin. "Well, you'd better do something about that, then."

An industrious look appeared on Henry's face. "Yes, I must. Hold still."

He moved to unbutton her blouse, pressing kisses down her chest and stomach as he did so, before pushing the silk garment back over her shoulders and pulling her up from the bed just long enough that he could slide it all the way off and unclasp her bra at the same time to send that the same way. Then he slid down her skirt, taking his weight off her briefly so he could drag it all the way down her legs, pulling her shoes off at the same time.

Then he was back over her, sliding his arms under her shoulders to haul her further onto the mattress and groaning with the effort.

Elizabeth laughed. "You could've just asked me to move."

"That wouldn't have been as romantic."

"Let me tell you, grunting with the strain is not that romantic, either."

"Really? You don't think it's hot that I can still lift you despite my advancing years?"

She thought about it. "Okay, I take it back. It's totally hot."

"What about this?" Henry reached down between them and stroked gently over her still-tender flesh, making her gasp as he touched her, checking she was ready for him before he lined himself up at her entrance and pushed slowly inside.

She felt him stretching her muscles and the slow slide to fullness as he eased all the way in, his chest brushing against hers and his gaze locked on her face. There was only one answer. "Damn. Yes, this is hot. So hot."

He smiled. "Good."

He paused for a minute and Elizabeth took the opportunity to stretch up to kiss him again, her hands on his shoulders as she gave him a gentle push. "Over," she said. "Roll over."

After the way he had just made her feel, she figured the least she could do was make him feel just as good – especially when he had been keen enough to book an appointment with her for the occasion. Not that she'd tell him she was coming around to finding the whole thing weirdly sweet.

Henry complied with her breathy command, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he rolled over to take her with him, letting her land on top. The position let him slide a little deeper inside her and they both moaned at the feeling. Elizabeth lifted one of Henry's hands to her mouth and kissed the back of it. "I love you."

Before he could reply, she started to move, her eyes fixed on his face as she drew slowly up his length and then back down, gradually picking up speed. She could feel the pressure low in her abdomen and was aware of heat spreading through her body as Henry's hands roamed her breasts and torso, but she was focused on the look on his face as she moved over him, squeezing her internal muscles and making his eyes slam shut.

His hips bucked up into her as she scratched her nails lightly over his chest; the shock of it made her cry out and the feel of him hitting her so deep made her want more.

But she forced herself to keep her attention on Henry, smoothing her hands over his chest and shoulders and then down over his stomach, touching him anywhere she could reach. She was aware of him breathing more erratically beneath her and his touch was starting to become less precise, his hands grabbing at her hips as she fought to keep her rhythm.

Elizabeth leaned forward slightly to brush her lips over Henry's face, smearing kisses over his forehead and cheeks before finding his lips. "Henry," she said.

"Mm," was all he replied, but he did open his eyes to look at her.

His pupils were blown dark and wide and Elizabeth felt the familiar heady thrill at seeing her husband so far gone.

She repeated his earlier words back to him. "Come for me," she told him.

Several thrusts later he did, and she slid her hand down her body to rub against her clit, finishing herself off as Henry exploded inside her. Her muscles clamped tight around him when she came, making Henry shout out as his fingers dug hard into her hips and his face was blank with pleasure. Elizabeth collapsed over him, her body and Henry's slick and hot with sweat. They were both breathing heavily.

Elizabeth made to move off Henry to let him breathe, but he tightened his arms around her to keep her with him. She could feel him softening inside her and could feel the slow drip of fluid against her leg, but she felt spent and boneless and reluctant to move so she stayed where she was, resting her head against Henry's chest to feel the heavy thud of his heart beneath her ear.

"That was so good," he said drowsily, as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She hummed in agreement. "Yeah."

"You know, I still have some time left on my appointment."

She nodded. "Yeah. So what d'you want to do with it?"

The only response was the sound of Henry's breathing evening out as he drifted into sleep.

Elizabeth shifted slightly to settle herself more comfortably against him, reaching out to drag a blanket from the foot of the bed. She thought Henry had the right idea; she was feeling pretty sleepy herself. "Remind me to tell you off later," she mumbled.

"For?" The word was barely intelligible.

"Not using your whole appointment and wasting the Secretary of State's time."

Henry might have given her reply, but if he did she missed it as her eyes slid shut and she fell into a sated sleep.

* * *

 _Thursday, 20:45_

A vibrating noise stirred her briefly but, still enjoying her human pillow too much to worry about external distractions, Elizabeth ignored it and let herself go back to sleep, Henry's chest her exceptionally comfortable pillow.

* * *

 _Thursday, 20:55_

A shrill ring woke her.

She startled awake, gasping in a breath and making Henry jump beneath her. "Crap!"

The shrill ring sounded again.

The phone by the bed.

Elizabeth glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Shit. Blake. The US ambassador to Russia. The phone call.

She crawled over her still-sleepy husband to pick up the phone. "I'm just putting my golf stuff away and then I promise I'll be at the clubhouse in five minutes for my engagement."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Blake answered acerbically, "Thank you, Madam Secretary." He paused. "I trust you had a good game."

"I won the Ryder Cup," she grinned.

Blake hung up without a reply.

Fair enough.

Elizabeth dragged herself out of bed and hoped that the ambassador wouldn't be able to tell that she was wearing nothing but a bathrobe during their conversation.

* * *

 _Friday, 07:10_

"Good morning, Madam Secretary."

"Good morning, Nadine." Elizabeth stepped into the elevator beside her Chief of Staff and watched as the doors slid closed.

There was silence for a moment.

"Did you have a good evening, Ma'am?" asked Nadine.

"I did, thank you."

"You had a personal appointment, is that right?"

Elizabeth felt her lip twitch as she considered how to reply. She decided to go for the simple approach. "I did."

"Golfing, wasn't it?" It could have been an innocent question. Could have.

Shit. How much did Nadine know? "Yes."

"With your husband, if I remember rightly."

Elizabeth swallowed. "That's right."

"Did you win?"

She glanced down at her Chief of Staff to find her smiling knowingly and, damn, Nadine totally knew what had gone down last night when according to her schedule she should have been golfing. She thought she could probably blame Blake for that one. But still. She figured the best defence was the truth. She quirked her eyebrow and smirked.

"Damn straight I did," Elizabeth said. "Both rounds."


End file.
